The Cat
“I have lived with several Zen masters — all of them cats.” – Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment

She was a thin black and white feral cat,
extremely pregnant,
just looking for a safe place to birth her kittens.
Five little bits of fur,
in an abandoned cooler in my garage.
I am saddened by the thoughts
that this is the place she picked for safety.

The Flowers in the Glass
“My house is run, essentially, by an adopted, fully clawed cat with a mean nature.” Anthony Bourdain

The cat jumped onto the table.
She sniffed at the flowers in the glass,
casually stolen from the restaurant
where we had dinner.
He left in the middle of the meal.
I stayed and finished my meal.
The waiter told me “the gentleman” had paid for the meal
and did I want to take a box with the remains of his meal?
No I did not.
I wanted to sweep the food onto the floor
and listen to the plate crash.
I left the waiter a sizeable tip
and when he walked away,
I grabbed the flowers from the vase and ran.
Now my cat is getting ready to sweep them
onto the floor and bat them around.
I will let her.
Time for another tiny cup
of *Nihon Sakari Gokun Honjozo.
I listen to the swishing sound
of the flowers being played with by the cat
and drink another tiny cup.

*#1 the highest rated sake in the world. Tastes like melon, green apples, honey, and the smell of peonies.

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The cat in the picture is my boy Sam Cat the Ripper. I had to have him euthanized last October due to a huge tumor growing on his heart. He lived a happy life. This was his favorite place to lie in the yard. A quadrille is a form unique to dVerse. It has exactly 44 words, excluding the title, and use the prompted word which today is puzzle.

Ghost Cat
Deep pink petals fall on the wet green grass forming an ideogram. The crepe myrtle blooms are drifting to the ground. A ghost cat lives there waiting forever, switching his tail.

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You don’t know me
As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”Anthony Bourdain

You don’t know me.
I have listened to men making crude comments
about women in the kitchens I have cooked.
I have been beaten, stabbed, raped and robbed.
I have lost people I love due to
Illness, murder, and suicide.
I have been in the depths of despair,
I have danced on rainbows of joy.
I have loved deeply and been loved in return.
I have eaten the food from a James Beard Award winner,
I have eaten beans and beans,
I have starved.
I watched my mother dying
and identified the body of a friend dead by suicide.
I walked out on being a chef after having won an award
and almost hung myself that same day
but was saved by my little needy cat.
A year later I watched that cat being stomped to death
after my home was invaded and she hissed at the invaders.
I have seen lonely days and nights
And I have been alone by choice
And I have chosen my few friends wisely.
I learned the languages of water, trees and stones
and the language of the French and Japanese kitchens,
the language of the heart,
the language of cicadas at night.
I have dwelt in darkness of spirit
and darkness of the sweet night.
I have scars on my body and soul.
I have wept and laughed.
You don’t know me.

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Kim is charge of the pub today. She is asking us to write poems about being an animal. A simple and lovely prompt.

Mr. Cat
Nobody’s home,
Just me.
I walk around and explore.
I jump on the furniture
the kitchen cabinet,
the dresser,
the toilet….
I nap and graze on the nibbles in my bowl.
I take naps and look outside the windows.
Today there are lots of birds at the feeders
Who laugh at me and fly on the sill to tease me.
When you get home,
I ignore you of course.
Until you pick me up
and fold me into your arms
and ask,
Did you have a good day?
Of course I did but…
It is better now you are home.
I settle into your lap
as you nibble on treats
and watch the birds outside the window.
And we both nap.

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Orange cat, blue birds –
A drama of colors and
Fur and feathers,
Plays out daily. Sam Cat longs
To escape and wreak havoc.
Captured behind glass,
The Cat is a comedic
Display for the birds.
They tweet, hop about and tease.
How irksome! His whiskers twitch.